Redemption
by lucy forst
Summary: The Half-Blood Prince's thoughts as he performs his secret Sunday ritual...


Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me but the plot is mine so please don't sue me. You won't earn anything out of it anyways. Criticism/ reviews are very much welcome.

This one's for everyone who just wants to be forgiven. _Once._

**WONDER**

_Hell is yourself and the only redemption is wh_en a person puts himself aside to feel deeply _for another person._

_- Tennessee Williams_

Everything is so still. The sky is so grey. The grass is so green. It's rained before. It's going to rain again. Don't ask me how – I just know. It's a Sunday afternoon. Everyone's gone but I'm still here like always, can I at least know if you are?

I guess not.

A tombstone in the middle of nowhere is much easier to speak to than the Fat Lady. At least it won't comment on my pathetic state. So, here I am like I am every week, like I have been for the past seventeen years and everything has changed and it keeps changing all the time but there is one thing, one thing that has never changed.

My heart.

As I sit here, I wonder if you will believe me now, if I say that I still hope. I wonder what you will say, if I ask whether you're still with him. I wonder what you would do, if I said I still can't move on. Would you think I'm a fool? Do the two of you sit up there and laugh at me?

I wonder sometimes.

I wonder _most_ of the time.

I feel you watching me always. I can't get rid of this feeling. It's like your inside me – under my skin, inside my veins, flowing in my blood – it's like your still here. Can I help it? I'd laugh at that one. At first I said I'd forget about you, that one day I would wake up and then all memory of you would be erased from my mind. I thought that one day someone would ask me your name and I'd say, "Who?" But that is what I simply thought, not that I had actually believed my own thoughts even for a moment. Would _you_ believe that?

Could you?

There are all these questions, scattered here and there, passing through my mind every second of the day. Could you have dealt with that, if you were me? But then again, if you were me you would have made a better me than I have made of myself. You'd have done everything better because you're so good. Can you believe it – I still remember the way your hair smelt when it blew into my face, the way your skin felt when you brushed passed me, the way your breath was when you spoke to me, the color of your eyes and the way they shined? Can you?

I can't.

I wonder if you know that I still keep your photograph in my wallet, it's a little crumpled I must admit but I wonder if it still means anything to you. I wonder is it _ever_ meant anything to you.

It was taken at the end of our Fourth Year, you look so happy in it. I like to remember you that way – happy – that's how I always want to see you. Ironic, isn't it, since I was the one who hurt you the most. All that I can say is that I'd like to remember our last time as a good time.

I don't know what to say? I don't know if I should say anything at all. I wonder if you still remember me. I wonder if you still think of me. I wonder if you have ever thought of me because I think of you all the time. I don't seem to know the difference between thoughts and reality anymore. I'm losing my mind, I test myself everyday to see if I still remember my spells because sometimes it's your name that comes out from these lips. I cannot stand this but I cannot stop this. I cannot leave the thoughts of you but I cannot abandon my job as your son's protector. Do you know that I still have to revise my lessons before I can get down to teaching my students because you haunt me so? Well, if there's one thing I don't have to worry about, it would be forgetting you.

You're so impossible.

Perhaps I should have tried harder. Perhaps I should have done something…something dramatic! Something that would have pleased you, something would have made you happy, something that would have surprised you; I should have…I should have done something _he_ would have done. I'm not sure what that would have been, though. Let's see…I tried flower, chocolate, spending the night outside your common room, almost being expelled and cutting my veins because I could not bear to see you die before I did.

But in the end that's exactly what happened. I guess he would have enjoyed it if I died. I guess I would have found peace in it too. At least he and I would have found common ground, our love for you, of course.

Again, irony – fate's favorite play, it's loving you that is our common ground yet it's loving you that made us the most bitter of enemies. I understand that in your story, I'm the bad guy, the monster. I guess my father was right all along. I have become what he predicted I would have. I wonder what my mother would think of me if she saw me now. Would you ask her? Is she up there? I guess I didn't really believe in an up there anymore before you went away, I guess it's because I've always known I'd never be up there. My place was not meant to be next to yours. My place was not even meant to be in your presence. You're too holy for that, too pure and I'm just too demented but I'll tell you one thing – in my story, you were _always_ the princess.

My 'friends' called you a lot of names. Those who knew my past told me I should have forgotten you by now. Even Albus said to me once, that it just wasn't meant to be. They expect me to believe that whatever happened was for the best.

But I can't.

I refuse to.

I absolutely _refuse_ to let go.

In a sense, in a strange way, in the past you were and will always be mine.

They don't understand.

They don't know anything.

I wonder if you think I'm crazy for thinking this. I wonder if you think that it is all in my mind. I know that there are people who think I'm a creep, a stalker, a freak. I wonder if you're one of those people. I wonder if I had another chance. I wonder if you'll give me one. I wonder if in the afterlife you'll be able to find it in your heart to forgive me.

I know what I did was unforgivable but I cannot bear the thought that you died, always hating me because I'm still here, I'm still living and I still love you. What's it like to have the person you love the most in the world love you back as much as you love them? I'd like to know, if you're still willing to tell me that is. I wonder if you could accept my apology from beyond. Give me a sign.

_Please._

Nothing happens. Everything is as still as it was. The clouds are still grey. The grass is still green. It still had rained and it still will rain again, and again, and again. I cannot stop it. I cannot keep anything as it was.

I have no power.

I have no control.

I have no will.

The mark on my arm, my biggest regret, is getting darker as is the world outside. I know what is coming. I must warn them. But no matter what, I will still be here the next Sunday and the Sunday after that and the Sunday after that, till either all the Sunday's come to an end or I do. I know that you shall never be able to love me; I have come to terms with that fact. I'm not here to ask you for love, I must make it clear. I don't want to ask for what you cannot give me because you have already given it to another. I don't want any of that. All I want, all that I have dreamed of and it is something only you can give me.

But you're gone, Lily and all that you have left me with is wonder; wonder and a silent cry.

A silent cry for remption.


End file.
